


Foreign Country

by ChaiFighter



Series: the time-traveling jonmartin apocalypse baby [1]
Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Adoption, M/M, Nonbinary Character, Spiral Shenanigans, Statement Fic (The Magnus Archives), Time Travel, allusions to the blackwood-sims post-apocalypse wedding, get fucked Elias, the adopted jonmartin apocalypse baby comes back to do a murder, transcript
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-06
Updated: 2020-06-06
Packaged: 2021-03-04 00:01:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24574231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChaiFighter/pseuds/ChaiFighter
Summary: RENÉStatement of René Cabrera Blackwood-Sims, regarding the circumstances of their adoption and their eventual… temporal displacement.[A BRIEF SILENCE]ARCHIVISTWhat?
Relationships: Jonathan Sims/Martin Blackwood
Series: the time-traveling jonmartin apocalypse baby [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1872331
Comments: 25
Kudos: 265





	Foreign Country

**Author's Note:**

> "The past is a foreign country; they do things differently there." -L.P. Hartley

[CLICK]

**ARCHIVIST**

Of course. Let me–

**RENÉ**

It’s already recording.

**ARCHIVIST**

I– suppose it is. I must have left it running from the last statement. I’ll just-

**RENÉ**

You don’t need to switch the tape. If it’s listening already, it has what it needs. You’re not even that far yet?

**ARCHIVIST**

I… Uh…

**RENÉ**

_[under their breath]_ This’ll be interesting. _[normally]_ Should I start?

**ARCHIVIST**

_[clears throat]_ Yes, I think that would be best. Statement of–

**RENÉ**

Statement of René Cabrera Blackwood-Sims, regarding the circumstances of their adoption and their eventual… temporal displacement.

[A BRIEF SILENCE]

**ARCHIVIST**

_What?_

**RENÉ**

Statement begins.

I know you have questions, Jon, but time is limited, and we have a lot to get through. Suffice it to say, I am from the future, and given enough time all things are possible–even my surname. It’s the nature of Change, and more than that, it’s the nature of human beings. We contain such manifold potentials that by our very nature, we render the future incalculable.

Unless, of course, you have been there.

I was seven years old when the world ended. Back then I was just René Cabrera, living with my single mother in a little suburb at the edge of London. I don’t remember much of that world, but what little I do recall feels very warm, and very safe. I don’t miss it; it fits too poorly with my concept of reality to miss. But I remember it fondly all the same.

One moment, little René Cabrera was jabbering to their mother about a drawing they had made. The next, their mother was gone, and the sky was _watching them._ Down to their bones, to their atoms, they were Known, and they were no longer capable of secrets. They would never be capable of secrets again. That old, warm, safe world was no more, claimed by a Terrible Change. And this new, frightening landscape, with its blinking sky and its howling terror, began, ever so slowly, to twist.

Have you met Michael yet? Just nod or shake your head, the Statement won’t let you speak yet.

Right. Michael is a creature known as the Distortion, which is itself an aspect of a greater power known as the Spiral. It is the fear of madness, of deception, of your own senses lying to you. On the day of the Terrible Change, this was the power that reshaped my childhood home. 

I always liked funhouse mirrors as a kid. I used to imagine I could suck in a big breath and my body would distend the same way it did in the reflection, like some invisible hand had squeezed it round the middle. Then I tried it firsthand. I would not recommend the experience. 

Being an entity of disorientation, time has a tendency to go a bit funny in the Spiral. But then, time had already gone funny across the entire world; oddly enough, in the post-apocalyptic fearscape, everyone is near-immortal. How better to feed on our fear forever? No new people were being born–everyone was a bit preoccupied with screaming in terror–so they simply… kept us alive. Simple as that.

But constancy is antipathy to the Spiral–so within my patch of London, time began to warp. Some days I was five again, tiny and even more incoherent than usual, and others I was suddenly twelve, twenty two, eighty two, ages I had never been and was afraid of never reaching. Time lost its grip on me, and in many ways I stopped believing in it. In many ways, I still do not. Days coiled around me like curls of paper, piling and sinking and squalling, and I knew that regardless of my relationship with linear time, this, the Long Twisting, was to be my world forever.

And then, you came.

I suppose you don't know about the Eye yet. It’s an entity, much like the Spiral. The fear of being Known, of Knowing too much. Of being watched. You serve it here at the Institute, reading your statements, taking your stories. And in that apocalyptic kingdom, where the Watcher sat upon the high throne, you were the jewel in its crown. The Archive, the Dread Record. The Door. That entire world bent to your gaze–and one day, you turned that gaze upon my corner of London. 

I don’t know why you chose me. Perhaps you saw in my wailing, writhing form the use I would one day serve as a person unstuck from time. Perhaps I reminded you of someone you knew, or of something you lost. Perhaps Martin’s shy imaginings of the nuclear family had begun to sway you; you had recently married, and kids seem like the sort of thing he’d want next. Whatever the reason, when you tore apart the Spiral’s domain, you found me, and you brought me back with you.

You were good parents. The best parents. I know you doubted yourself a lot, but you both loved me as though I was your own. I think at first you saw my presence as a sort of admission of failure; you wanted hope to still exist, to believe that it could all be reverted. Taking in a child, building a home here, it didn’t fit with that view. But life happens wherever you are, whether you want it to or not, and you could not bear to send me away. So, surely enough, life happened to us.

I started to age again when you brought me to the Watcher’s Tower–the rules are different there, and since you wanted to let me grow up, I did. I’ve never actually thanked you for that, but I think I should. I don’t miss being a small, frightened child. I much prefer being a large, frightened adult. It’s more than most other apocalypse children have gotten. Still, while I aged in a relatively linear progression, there were days where I fell backward into childhood, or forward into great age. Time warped around me. I may have rejoined its flow, but I was still loose within it, bouncing wildly between selves and sanities.

Living in the shadow of the Watcher for sixteen years, I developed something of an affinity for the Beholding. Oddly enough, I think it likes me. Perks of being the Archive’s child, I suppose. I’m part of the family. But I never committed myself to the Watcher, and the Spiral’s touch never faded, and I passed my years under the scrutiny of two powers, balancing both and falling to none.

Then, two years ago, I made a discovery.

I said before that I am unstuck from time. This is far more literal than you might imagine; time’s grip on me is loose and yielding, and I can buck its grasp with relative ease. This was the cause of my displaced days. I simply slid loose. But what I didn’t realize was that once you are unstuck in time, if you know where you are going with enough detail and conviction, you can wade the river. You can choose a destination. 

You can time travel. 

You can _go back._

And fortunately for me, I now had just the friend to show me the path.

I do not dislike my life. In fact, I am very nearly happy, as much as one can be in a post-apocalyptic hellscape built on the deepest fears of the world. But I am afraid. I am always so terribly afraid. And once, sixteen years ago before the Change, I remember feeling safe. I remember keeping secrets. 

You never liked to talk about the World Before, but Martin loves to reminisce. He told me stories about friends, and workplaces, and care homes, and nice dogs, and he told me about tea, and mood lighting, and smelly candles, and thick blankets, and I wanted that world so badly my teeth hurt. I could not miss it, but I could wish for it so fiercely I thought I might die of the longing. I could only barely imagine a world without fear, and even that sliver of light was enough to Know that I wanted it more terribly than anything in my life. And if there was a possibility I could preserve that world, even if it meant tearing down what we’d built in this one, I was going to try. 

Two hours ago, I went down to the base of the Watcher’s Tower, where the shell of the old Archives sits nearly untouched. They are obsolete now, what with you _being_ the Archive, but you kept them nonetheless. Sentiment, I think. You hate the place, but it’s where you and Martin met, so you leave it be. The shelves are much taller there, arching off into infinite blackness. Here, the boxes stop well within my sight, constrained by something so simple as a ceiling. Imagine–the Watcher’s knowledge, contained. _[incredulous laugh]_ It’s just so _small._

I sat down in the depths of the looming stacks, with a bag I’d prepared full of important Statements and less important memory tapes, _[patting sound]_ and I let myself come unstuck from time. I asked the Watcher, What is the path? And all at once I Knew the way. Then I walked, until I arrived here. Where you found me.

Listen to all of these tapes carefully. I think you’ll find Statements 0170216-B and 0173006, and the tape labeled “Instructions for Archivist,” of particular interest, as they have the most thorough explanations of the Entities and their associated powers. It may be somewhat alarming, but I suggest placing Statement 0181810 toward the front of your queue as well. You’ll find a lot of worrying information about Elias in all of these. Don’t worry about him. Just get yourself and the rest of your Archival staff secure, and listen to everything before doing anything drastic. I mean it. _Everything._

Also, don’t bring on any new employees until you know exactly how it works and are certain you’ll be able to release them afterwards. It caused a lot of friction the last time around.

I wish I could tell you that you could escape this life entirely, but the price for doing so proved too high before, and likely will again. Instead, I’ll tell you that even when the worst happened, even when everything fell apart so completely that the world was unrecognizable, you were a good man, Jonathan Sims. You were a good father, and a good husband, and you weren’t to blame for your shitty life. Some shitty decisions, sure. A lot of them, even. But you did what you could, and my life was– 

_[choking up]_ Before you found– 

I owe you my life. Every bit of happiness I’ve had since I was seven, I owe to you. So for once in your life, sit down, shut up, and let me return the favor.

Statement ends.

**ARCHIVIST**

I– I don’t– _[various speechless noises]_

**RENÉ**

It’s a lot, I know. You’re not going to try and play skeptic on me, right? Because I have the Mr. Spider statement right here if you need proof.

[A DEEP BREATH FROM THE ARCHIVIST]

**RENÉ (CONT’D)**

Jon?

**ARCHIVIST**

I–I have, _so_ many questions.

**RENÉ**

Ask away.

**ARCHIVIST**

You– The world ends?

**RENÉ**

Not this time, if I can help it.

**ARCHIVIST**

Can you?

**RENÉ**

Oh yeah. Easy.

**ARCHIVIST**

How? And what happens to your timeline if you do?

**RENÉ**

Not sure, honesty. I don’t know if this is another timeline, or straight backwards in my own… I’m planning on just trying to go back once I’m done. If I can, then great, I’ll go home to my family and be glad that I’ve set this other universe on track. Probably look into bringing them all back here with me, if I can. If the future I came from is gone and I can’t go back, then I live out my life in this world, much as I can. No family, but the sky doesn’t blink, so.

**ARCHIVIST**

That’s…

**RENÉ**

Ill-planned?

**ARCHIVIST**

Rather brave of you. 

**RENÉ**

Oh. Thanks.

[A PAUSE]

**ARCHIVIST**

_[clears throat]_ About– You said– That is, er– M-Martin and I–

**RENÉ**

Don’t hurt yourself.

**ARCHIVIST**

It just, it doesn’t make much sense? W-We’re coworkers, it’s very… 

**RENÉ**

Just listen to the tapes. It’ll make more sense, I promise. I don’t want to, to pressure either of you here into anything, but I… I don’t know if it would happen the same, without events going on the way they did. If you’d See each other the same way. And obviously there’s nothing wrong if you don’t, but. I want you to at least hear it. So you know what it could be. You really have something special, where I’m from.

**ARCHIVIST**

_[tentatively]_ Blackwood-Sims?

**RENÉ**

All three of us.

**ARCHIVIST**

_[deep breath]_ I… I never thought…

RENÉ

Yeah. Me neither.

[PAUSE]

**ARCHIVIST**

You said I was the Archive. That I somehow made the actual Archives obsolete. What does that mean?

**RENÉ**

I think I’ll let the tapes explain that one. It’s not going to happen this time around, anyway.

**ARCHIVIST**

I don’t–

**RENÉ**

I’m taking care of it. Just listen to the tapes. They’ll lay it out better than I can. And I don’t want to panic you quite yet.

**ARCHIVIST**

_[strangled laugh]_ I think it’s a bit late for that.

**RENÉ**

Yeah. Probably.

**ARCHIVIST**

So, what’s next?

**RENÉ**

I’m going to go lay low for a bit before my next move. It’s pretty important no one knows what I’m planning.

**ARCHIVIST**

Right. Do you– Do you think you’ll ever– 

**RENÉ**

If I can, yeah.

[CHAIR SCRAPING. FOOTSTEPS. FABRIC RUSTLES.]

**RENÉ (CONT’D)**

_[muffled]_ Love you, Da. Stay safe. Don’t get too close to the investigation.

**ARCHIVIST**

Wait, what– 

[FOOTSTEPS, DOOR OPENS AND SHUTS]

**ARCHIVIST (CONT’D)**

What investigation? _[muttered]_ Of course, time travel. Christ.

[ARCHIVIST SIGHS, EXHAUSTED. CHAIR CREAKS AS HE LEANS BACK]

**ARCHIVIST (CONT’D)**

Well. This is… a lot. It’s madness, but- What isn’t, these days?

I shouldn’t believe it. Of all the mad stories I’ve heard in this place, this one should be the most incredible, and yet–I find myself believing every word. Blackwood-Sims… Hm.

I wonder what René meant by investigation. For that matter, I wonder how they plan to avert the apocalypse. They were rather unclear on the matter of its inception, but from the way they spoke about the Watcher’s Tower and my… my own power within the landscape, it’s likely safe to assume the Institute has something to do with its onset. Was it someone here who caused it? But who, and why? And for that matter, how?

Who here would… Who…

[SHARP INHALE]

**ARCHIVIST (CONT’D)**

“You’ll find a lot of worrying information about Elias in all of these. Don’t worry about him.”

Don’t worry about him, don’t get too close to the investigation–

[CHAIR SCRAPING]

**ARCHIVIST (CONT’D)**

Oh no, no, no–

[FRANTIC FOOTSTEPS, A DOOR OPENING]

[THE SOUND OF A GUNSHOT, DISTANT BUT UNMISTAKABLE]

[THUD AS THE ARCHIVIST SAGS AGAINST THE DOORFRAME]

**ARCHIVIST (CONT’D)**

Oh god.

[CLICK]

**Author's Note:**

> Since René is Spiral-touched, Elias did not See any of their statement, and also absolutely did not See them coming. Get fucked, Elias.


End file.
